


Questions and Answers

by Hours_Gone_By



Series: Trope Bingo Round 14 [8]
Category: Transformers (Bay Movies), Transformers – All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe – Canon Divergence, Au Yeah August 2019, Eighteen-year-old Having a Beer, Gen, Jazz Lives (Transformers), Mikaela Banes Deserved Better, Presumed Dead, Trope Bingo Round 14, gap year, life decisions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-05
Updated: 2020-07-05
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:54:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25095697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hours_Gone_By/pseuds/Hours_Gone_By
Summary: Mikaela was looking down at her phone while entering the clinic. There was another 'take me back?' text from Sam and, distracted, she didn't notice that the sounds in the clinic abruptly stopped when she walked in."Hey, Ratchet," she said, still looking down. "Hope it's okay I came in early I," she looked up and stared at the Autobot who was not Ratchet, stopping so fast she nearly tripped on her own feet. "The hell? You're supposed to be dead!"
Relationships: Jazz & Mikaela Banes, Jazz/Prowl, Mikaela Banes & Ratchet
Series: Trope Bingo Round 14 [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1635451
Comments: 17
Kudos: 105
Collections: Trope Bingo: Round Fourteen





	Questions and Answers

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Trope Bingo Round 14. Prompt: Presumed Dead
> 
> Used for AU Yeah AUgust 2019, Day 30 (Canon Divergence)

Mikaela's last two appointments at the detailing shop had both cancelled, so she'd been able to head out to the base for her lessons with Ratchet early. She told her dad that she was going to hang out with some friends, she'd be back whenever and do _not_ order in again, we can't afford it. Love you, Dad, bye! Mikaela worried about her dad, of course, but she could still feel the weight of all that responsibility falling away from her as the shop receded, and the base came into view. Sure, working with Cybertronian tech could be a lot more dangerous than working at her dad's garage, but… Going back to working on _only_ human machines after seeing some of what the Autobots were capable of was like having generic Hallowe'en chocolate after Godiva's. It wasn't that it was automatically bad, it's just that you knew there was _better_ out there.

Mikaela got through security at the gate without any trouble, since the guards knew her by now and just did the usual ID and make-sure-you're-human checks. She waved to a few of the NEST personnel and Autobots that she saw on her way over to the building Ratchet used as a clinic. Mikaela was looking down at her phone while entering the clinic. There was another 'take me back?' text from Sam and, distracted, she didn't notice that the sounds in the clinic abruptly stopped when she walked in.

"Hey, Ratchet," she said, still looking down. "Hope it's okay I came in early I," she looked up and stared at the Autobot who was _not_ Ratchet, stopping so fast she nearly tripped on her own feet. "The _hell_? You're supposed to be _dead_!"

"Um," Jazz said, while Ratchet just looked exasperated. "Hey there, Mikaela. Long time, no see. Yeah, 'bout that whole 'death' thing…"

* * *

"So, so let me get this straight," Mikaela said, rubbing her forehead. "Megatron rips you in half in Mission City, and while you're waiting to be found, you, Ratchet, and Optimus comm each other, decide to _pretend_ you died, and since then you've just been, what? Working undercover or something?"

Jazz nodded, leaning back against the wall and folding his arms. "You got it, Mikaela."

"We were unsure if we could fully trust the humans," Ratchet explained. "Especially after our initial encounter with Sector Seven, and learning of Megatron's fate at human hands."

What Ratchet was saying made sense, especially since she'd had her own encounter with Sector Seven and wasn't at all sorry they were gone. (She'd heard through the base grapevine that Simmons had had to move back in with his mother and tried not to feel viciously satisfied about it. Okay, fine, maybe she hadn't tried very _hard_. Simmons was an _asshole_ with a capital ASS.)

"So, you don't trust humans," she concluded and held up a hand to stop their protests. "No, it's okay, I get it. I'm not upset. I can see why you wouldn't."

"There are some humans we trust," Ratchet corrected. "Including you, Mikaela. I'd not teach you to repair us, otherwise."

"Yeah, and besides, we like having you around," Jazz added, smiling at her.

Mikaela smiled back, then looked down at her hands, fiddling with the chipped polish on her nails. "Thanks. I like being here. I – um – "

"Wasn't sure we would keep you around after you and Sam broke up," Ratchet finished for her. Mikaela wasn't surprised he'd figured it out. She'd never explicitly said anything around the Autobots about how she worried about just that, even if it was probably obvious. "Of course we would. Your importance to us isn't based on your romantic associations."

"Speaking of associations," Jazz said, pushing away from the wall. "I've got a call to make. You need me?"

Ratchet waved him off. "No, no, go on. He's waiting."

Mikaela wondered who Jazz was talking about. A human? Another undercover Autobot somewhere? All the Autobots she knew about where on base, so why would Jazz need to make a call instead of just going to visit them?

"That's another thing," Ratchet told her, picking up on her curiosity, "that you are not cleared to hear. Now, then, since you're early, you can come over here and show me what you'd do with this cooling system to fix it."

* * *

If human technology had been even slightly more advanced than it was, the triple-encrypted tight-beam transmission from Andrews AFB might have been noticed, if not intercepted. As it was, Jazz's communication to the _Ark_ , held at station keeping out beyond Earth's Moon and the reach of human detection, went utterly unheeded.

"First Lieutenant Jazz," he was greeted. "Report."

"General Prowl," he responded. "There have been no increased signs of Decepticon activity. Those Decepticons remaining on-planet are scattered and disorganized. I believe that they are looking only to survive and, lacking infrastructure, are remaining out of sight to avoid capture or termination. Sensory data and recorded locations are attached to this transmission."

"Thank you, General. Your data packets have been received. Have you anything more to report?"

"Yeah, one of the humans, Mikaela Banes, walked in on Ratchet and me during my appointment. She knows I'm still alive."

Prowl frowned. "Do you foresee this being a problem?"

"Nope. Ratchet and Optimus trust her, so I do too," Jazz told him. "Ratchet's teaching her how to do minor repairs on us. Even the humans have put her clearance higher than Sam's."

"I see." Jazz could see Prowl filing that information away to analyze later. "I have a conference with Optimus tomorrow and will discuss this further with him then. Have you anything further to report?"

"Nope, report complete."

"Very well, then, report accepted." Prowl relaxed and smiled at him affectionately. "How are you, Jazz?"

"Missing you lots, lover," Jazz responded, smiling back. "How're you doing, all alone up there?"

"I'm doing well," Prowl answered, "and I miss you also, even though we've only been apart a short time. Still."

"Yeah," Jazz said, a little wistfully. "Still. I'm looking forward to you coming down here – or me going up there, whichever one I can get Prime to authorize."

"Bringing you up here would be difficult without exposing more of our capabilities to the humans," Prowl pointed out. "Conversely, I'm not able to come down there without awakening someone from stasis to monitor the _Ark_ in my place."

"Yeah," Jazz sighed. "Plus, the whole danger of having too much of the command staff in one place again."

"Yes," Prowl agreed. "Megatron may be gone, but Starscream escaped. Just remember that we are closer to being able to be together in peacetime than we ever have been before."

"Yeah." Jazz put his fingertips up against the screen. "Gotta go now." The humans might not pick up the transmission, but there were still Cons hanging around. Had to be careful. "Love you, Prowler."

Prowl touched his fingers to Jazz's. "I love you, Jazz. Until next time."

"Next time," Jazz echoed. The transmission closed, and Jazz let his shoulders slump, if only briefly. "Hey, Optimus."

"Forgive me for intruding." The room Jazz was using was big for humans, okay for a slightly-smaller-than-average Cybertronian, but too small for Optimus to enter comfortably. The Autobot leader ducked under the low-to-him doorway.

Jazz shrugged and turned around. "You weren't going to overhear anything you don't already know."

"Still," Optimus said. "I'm expected to meet in person with some human leaders shortly, and I have little time before you leave again." Optimus always preferred to talk to his Autobots in person, whenever he could. "Ratchet told me what happened with Mikaela. He tells me it was an accident, and he was not expecting her at that time. He also thought the door was locked."

Jazz didn't comment on the unlocked door. "Can't be helped now. What d'you wanna do about her?"

"Mikaela is intelligent and reliable and has reasons of her own not to trust in human authorities. Impressing the need for discretion upon her will be enough," Optimus replied.

"Yeah, but her ex is still around, right? Stuff like that can be a really easy in if you know which buttons to push," Jazz pointed out. He'd used that kind of stuff himself before, after all.

"Sam is planning to pursue higher education within a short time and will not be on base," Optimus explained. "Mikaela plans to work for the foreseeable future, though she may pursue post-secondary education within the next year."

"Girl's taking a gap year, huh?" Jazz crossed his arms and looked thoughtful, accessing Mikaela's personnel record. "Kids who do that usually come from families with more money, right? Ratchet took her on, so she's got to have the smarts for it. Can't afford it, looking after her dad, not interested, or what?"

"I'm not certain if it's a lack of interest," Optimus replied, "but Mikaela's family is not as well-off as Sam's, and she is helping her father at his garage."

"Okay. Is that what Mikaela wants or just what she thinks she has to do?"

"I haven't asked." Optimus regarded Jazz thoughtfully. "Why?"

Jazz flashed him a grin, not ready to get into his budding idea yet, even with Optimus. "Oh, no reason, just gathering intel." He changed the subject. "I'm gonna be heading out soon. Planning to head up to Canada, check out some reports about possible Con activity up there. I should be back in a few weeks, tops. Give Prowler my love if he calls while I'm out, alright?"

Optimus nodded. "Of course. Safe journeys, Jazz."

"You too, boss."

* * *

Mikaela didn't see Jazz again for months and, given she wasn't supposed to know he wasn't dead, was surprised when Ratchet asked her to help on some upgrades for him. Ratchet didn't give her too many specifics, but she could tell they were making changes to Jazz's onboard comm suite.

"So if you don't have any questions…" Ratchet said once he'd walked her through what they were going to do.

"Well, I do, but - is it the kind of thing I should have questions about," Mikaela wanted to know, "or the kind of thing where I should just do what you say?"

Jazz, despite the side of his helm being open, chuckled. "I like you, Miki."

"I wouldn't bother objecting to the nickname," Ratchet put in drily. "He'll give one to you no matter what."

"I don't mind."

"Aw, you know you like it, Ratch." Jazz addressed Mikaela again without waiting for an answer from Ratchet. "Yeah, you can ask questions about it. What d'you wanna know?"

"Okay, well," Mikaela made as if to tuck a lock of hair behind her ear, but it was habitual: she tied her hair back and pinned any loose ends while she was working. "The new modifications give it a lot more power," way more than you'd need just on Earth, "but in some ways, they're more delicate than the shorter-range systems you had before. If they get damaged, it's still probably going to be something your self-repair systems can handle, but it'll take time. It isn't something you can repair yourself, so you're risking being out of contact till you can get back here to have Ratchet repair you. Unless there are more Autobots out there that I'm not supposed to know about."

"Can't tell you either way," Jazz replied neutrally.

"You're not wrong about the modifications being difficult to repair on your own, either," Ratchet added. "Tell me, what would your solution be?"

Mikaela shrugged the shoulder that wasn't pressed up against Jazz while she soldered one final part in place. "Well, I mean, reinforcing the armour and programming his self-repair to prioritize communications would help, but the best solution would be to have access to someone who can make the repairs."

"Sure would," Jazz agreed. "You up for it?"

"Am I – " Mikaela thought about it, though she didn't stop her work. "I – I don't know. I _want_ to, but, I mean, there's my job at the shop, and my dad, and – " She'd almost said 'Sam' but, let's face it, that was over. It'd been fun, they might be able to stay friends, but once the rush of shared danger had worn off, she'd realized Sam wasn't ready for a real relationship. He had a lot of the same immaturity she'd seen in her other boyfriends, and Mikaela just wasn't willing to drop herself back into that.

"You don't have to decide right now," Ratchet said. "But, between the two of you, you should be able to handle most of what I'd expect you to encounter. Take a few days and think about it. I still expect to see you back here tomorrow, of course. You can think on your own time."

"Yes, Ratchet," Mikaela murmured, focusing on getting one last, finicky, component in place. If this new comm suite _did_ break down, it wasn't going to be because of her, that was for sure.

Ratchet kept her working after they were done with Jazz's new hardware, and she didn't have time to think about the offer. Not until she'd gotten home, anyway. Her dad was out, probably with his new girlfriend, and Mikaela was honestly relieved to have the space to think. She grabbed a beer out of the fridge – underage or not, her dad wasn't going to say anything – and sat on the back step. The sun hadn't quite set yet, but the night promised to be a good one for stargazing, which was something she'd always liked to do.

If she went travelling with Jazz, she might get to stargaze in all new places. Which just brought up really relevant questions about things like how would she eat, where would she sleep…? The kinds of cars the Autobots favored for their alts didn't exactly pack a lot of trunk space, and as fascinating as the idea of travelling with an Autobot was, she didn't relish the thought of camping every single night. Eating at restaurants all the time would get expensive, too. There were hotels and motels where you could get a room with a kitchenette, but those still weren't cheap, and what would she do with leftovers once they moved on? Who was going to fund all this? Ratchet and Jazz had to know that she couldn't bankroll it on her own. There were a lot of things, practical ones, to work out before she could even think about taking off. Like what she would tell her dad about where she was going and what she was doing and – was she going to need a cover story?

"God," she sighed and flopped back to half-lie on the deck.

This was such a major decision to make, and she wasn't sure she could do it. Most kids her age were thinking about heading off to college or trade school or whatever. Here she was, not in college, learning how to fix aliens, and thinking – _seriously thinking_ – about taking off across the country with one of them. One that everyone else thought was dead, no less. There wasn't even anyone she could talk to about this. The only other human she had contact info for that might get it was Sam, and she did _not_ want to deal with the sulk-fest that would come from him finding out the Autobots had kept something secret from him. It wouldn't matter that they'd kept it a secret from her, too, or that she'd only found out by accident. Then there would be the attempts to get her back and – yeah, no, Sam was _not_ an option.

Mikaela drank her beer and watched the stars and tried to decide what to do. By the time she went to bed, she still didn't have any answers.

* * *

"Well, out with them," Ratchet said when she walked into the clinic the next day.

Mikaela blinked at him. "Out with - ?"

"The questions you thought up last night when you were trying to decide." He turned back to his workbench, adding, "you're not the first young adult I've seen work through something like this. You've probably gotten to the point where you're not sure what to do, and you're also not sure who to talk to about it, hm?"

"Yeah," she admitted. "It's not that I don't want to, I just – I mean, there's my dad, and travelling all the time and staying in hotels would be expensive."

Ratchet shrugged one shoulder. "You wouldn't have to worry about the expenses. Jazz will tell you more about that if he wants you to know, but you can be assured that your needs would be seen to. He'd not have invited you to accompany him if he didn't have measures in place for human maintenance."

"Okay, yeah, I'd like to hear what he has in mind before I decide."

"I'll have him contact you. Now then," Ratchet said, switching topics abruptly, "come show me what you'd do with this micro-linear actuator."

Ratchet kept her busy during the rest of the afternoon and part of the evening, and she didn't have a whole lot of time to think about it. Mikaela was honestly grateful for the distraction. She didn't expect to hear from Jazz any time soon, since he was probably off who knew where, but as she was leaving, she got a text from an unknown number. The little preview that popped up as a notification started with 'it's Jazz, answer the next call.' The phone rang almost immediately and, well, she answered.

"What's up, Miki?" Jazz's deep voice greeted her. "Ratch said you had some questions. I'm right outside. How about I give you a lift home, and we talk?"

"Sure, but I have my Vespa with me too?" There was no _way_ her scooter would fit inside a Pontiac Solstice, or whatever new model of sports car Jazz had chosen.

"Got it covered. It'll probably be back at your house before you are if you got as many questions as I think you do."

She'd trusted Optimus Prime to pick her up and not hurt her, she was sure she could trust one of his Autobots to bring her Vespa back to her driveway. Even if it _did_ feel weird to have giant aliens running errands on her behalf.

"Okay, sure." Mikaela really did need her questions answered so she could decide what she wanted to do. "Which door are you at?"

The answer to what model of sports car Jazz had chosen to replace the Solstice alt was a silver 2009 Porsche 911 Turbo with black trim. She'd seen this one around the base before, never met the mech, but had been told his name was Ricochet, and he was a scout, like Bumblebee.

"So, I'm guessing I call you Ricochet if anyone else is ever around?" she asked, sliding into the passenger seat.

"Yup, you got it. Gotta maintain my cover. 'S why I never transform on base."

"Right, okay." She could do that. Mikaela glanced out the tinted window, watching the base go by until they hit the civilian road. Jazz let her. "Alright, so, questions. I guess the biggest one is, what am I going to do for things like food and shelter and all that?"

"We're not going to leave you on your own for that," Jazz assured her. "Nah, this is a job, and it comes with a salary. Ratchet made us make sure you'd have insurance, too, plus there are some retirement benefits."

"I – " Mikaela was momentarily stunned, then she shook her head, pressed her fingers to her temples. "How are you managing all that? Is it even, well, legal?"

"NEST is already funded by some creative accounting," Jazz said. "We just got creative with the creativity."

"Right, so I'm….?"

"Still on the books as Ratchet's trainee," Jazz said, "but there's a little extra flowing your way now."

"Okay…" Mikaela wasn't sure how to feel about that. "Does-does Optimus know?" Whatever else happened, she did not want to disappoint the Autobot leader.

"Optimus gave me the okay for this little side-project, but he's not asking any questions."

Mikaela nodded. "Right, okay. So-so I'm working on a secret project inside a covert military operation, travelling with you in case you need repairs. Is that about it?"

"Not just for repairs," Jazz corrected her. "I can download information and observe and all that, but sometimes I need a human to work with other humans. We don't exactly blend in when we're talking, y'know."

"Okay, well, that takes care of food and expenses," Mikaela said, tucking her hair behind her ear. "But where would I be living during this. I mean, I'm not sure I want to live out of hotels all the time. Plus, it'd get expensive and leave a trail which you probably don't want me doing."

"Nope, sure don’t. You'd use NEST safehouses most of the time. Work out of one for a while chasing 'Con activity and then move on. That means you won't have to worry about hotels or rent, either, can save up for something like college, or a shop of your own, maybe." Jazz's tone became a little softer. "This isn't something you'd have to do forever, Mikaela. You decide in six months, a year from now, you wanna stop, do something else, we're not gonna abandon you. We know this isn't easy, being kinda rootless like that, but you'll have me, and anyone else is just a phone call away. Plus, I'm gonna swing by here every so often, so you'll get to see your family when we do."

"I guess…" Mikaela said slowly, "it wouldn't really be that different from going to college and coming home on holidays."

"Nope. Might even be back here more often."

"Okay, well…I still want to think about it."

"Of course you do. It's a big decision. We're not asking you to make it lightly, we're just asking."

"Right." Mikaela blew out a sigh. "I'll call you when I've got an answer for you, okay?"

"Yeah, of course that's okay, Miki."

Jazz dropped her off at home, and Mikaela went inside to think. Her scooter was already waiting for her in the driveway, just like he'd said it would be. Mikaela stayed away from base for a day, telling Ratchet she needed the space, and thought some more. She wanted to, she did, and while she wasn't sure she'd want to do it for the rest of her life, but Jazz had said she didn't have to. Maybe…maybe six months or a year, like he'd said? She could always try it and see, couldn't she? She turned that over and over in her head for another day. Finally, on the day after that, she picked up her phone and called Jazz back.

"I'm in."

**Author's Note:**

> [2009 Porsche 911 Turbo](https://www.motortrend.com/cars/porsche/911/2009/). The Turbo Coupe version specifically, if you're wondering.  
> \---  
> This story is part of the [LLF Comment Project](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/llfcommentproject), which was created to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites and appreciates feedback, including:  
> 
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>   * Short comments
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